Zion |✔️ {featured on Wattpad Talent Scouts}

TWENTY-NINE

The warehouse is just what I've heard of, the abandoned area by the shore of the beach. Used now for twenty years as a ring for rogues, the cars have already piled up, ranging from old and beat up to sleek and new.

I walk beside Gray, nervous as the doors of the warehouse are just yards away from us. Zion and a group of warriors surround the area, out of sight, and masking their scent in case something goes horribly wrong.

"Ready?" Gray asks as we get closer.

I nod, watching as the sun begins to set, making me feel only worse. No, I've never been afraid of the dark, but now I am. Circumstances run through my head of the rogues figuring out who I am to the King and chasing me down all in the dark. It's as if my body has begun to shut down and is starting to rely on autopilot as my stomach can be tasted in my mouth and the hairs on my arms begin to rise.

The second we arrive at the door, a rogue lets us in, taking in our appearances as I don't even both to look at him. I don't want to try anything today. I don't want to take a chance.

The warehouse smells like beer, dust, sweat, and a mix of rogue scents from all over the country. On one side is a bar, old tables set up with stools are people chat and drink, a game of darts playing as well as cards. In the center is the ring, one that you would find for boxing, and in it stands a female rogue and a male. The male is twice the female's size, but something tells me she knows how to work around that. After all, all she has to do is use her height to an advantage as well as his weight. Simple physics really with how to proctor out the moves.

"New rogue?" A male comments from my side, watching Gray with his brown eyes. "Our numbers only rise." Gray looks at the man, not wanting to speak as the male takes a swing of his beer and goes back to his pool game.

Already I told Gray he would get comments, for a new rogue always has a more potent scent.

Looking around, I decide to pull Gray with me to the ring, in the crowd as we watch the women land a hard punch to her opponent's jaw. As I watch the match, I also watch the people, keeping a lookout for anyone who would have contacts with the ring leaders. The people you would look for are either going to be your loners who sit in a crowd but do not speak or move, except for the eyes. Your other type would be the one surrounded by many people as they play the popular role.

"Drink?" I ask Gray, letting him know I'm going to scope out the bar area for the contacts.

Gray nods and I'm off, weaving last a few rogues and to the bar where quite a few already are. It's not too populated here in the warehouse, I'd say about two hundred rogues almost, a little less. As I come to the bar and take a seat, my nerves only pile upon one another. I have no other direct protection here except for Gray, and the rest are on the boarder of the warehouse property, a bit too long to come to aid in case a gun is put to my head.

Ordering just a normal beer, I turn around, scoping out the crowd as I see small crowds gather off of the stage of the fight, betting on the winner or discussing other topics. As I'm given my beer, my fingers begin to tremble, grasping into the bottle tighter to gain control. Gray is chatting with one of the meaty rogues that let you know he was once a warrior. Those rogues I always found to be the nicest to chat with. Sure, they look like wolves on steroids, but they are the easiest to strike up a conversation with.

My eyes skim the other side of the warehouse, where small tables are laid out, games of gambling going on.

One female catches my attention, the tattoo sleeve on her left arm.

It's a tattoo sleeve bearing symbols you'd see in history books of the cavemen.

She may be a warrior, one of the few the moon goddess ever lets roam the earth. If she is a warrior, her story will be one to hear about for centuries.